


let's make this night last forever

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: After facing down the sewer rats and giant spiders below Zadash, Fjord and Jester find rest and respite at the Pillow Trove.





	let's make this night last forever

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this night's almost over](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752147) by [Lauren (notalwaysweak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren). 



> I guess the idea of this challenge was to write the fic set directly after episode ten _way_ closer to the time that it aired, but try telling that to the brain possums.
> 
> Thanks to Emi for the beta; anything that still sucks is my fault.
> 
> * * *

“I really should use my room at the Pillow Trove, since I paid for it,” Jester says.

“I’ll escort her there,” Fjord says. “Just in case there’s trouble.”

It is perhaps the least convincing cover story ever, but they’re all worn out and the others barely react beyond offering nods and farewells. Beau looks pissed that this puts her in charge of carting the giant spider around, but doesn’t protest.

Jester only waits until they’re around the next corner before slipping her hand into Fjord’s; blue and green fingers intertwine and lock together. Fjord looks at her but she’s looking straight ahead and her lower lip is shaking a little and he doesn’t want to crack whatever thin veneer she’s keeping together before they can get somewhere private.

“Jester,” he says softly as they approach a street vendor’s cart. “I’m going to get us some food.”

She nods, lips pressed close together, and Fjord purchases two wide round flatbreads that are rolled up around marinated lamb, assorted vegetables, and some kind of sauce that drips onto his hand as he picks up the paper-wrapped bundles. They smell amazing, and Jester perks up at the scent. For another few silver Fjord buys a sturdy skin of wine, which Jester carries in her free hand. She still hasn’t let go of him.

The only time she comes close to letting go of his hand is when they reach the Pillow Trove, when she has to get her room key out, but she just sticks the wineskin into her cleavage and hunts out the key from one of her pockets.

“We’d better go up quick,” she says. “We both look pretty messy.”

Messy is the least of what they look; Fjord thinks a solid hour in a good bathhouse might start to mend the damage done by the sewer rats and the giant spider, but it’d only be a start. But he nods and lets her take the lead through the Pillow Trove’s rather lovely foyer and up the stairs to the room that she’s booked.

As soon as they’re in the room, Fjord sets down their food on a small writing desk, plucks the wineskin from Jester’s bodice, and pulls her into a tight embrace. Her horns knock against his jaw as she pushes her face against his shoulder. She’s saying something, the same few sentences repeatedly.

“Jester, whoa, slow down, I can’t make out what you’re sayin’.”

She turns her head and he feels her wet cheek rub against his throat, horn digging into his shoulder. “We could have  _ died _ down there, Fjord, you could have died, or  _ I _ could, and what if we all did and nobody ever knew because nobody knows us here and my mom never found out--” Her breathing is rapid and shallow; Fjord strokes her hair and kisses her forehead.

“But we didn’t,” he tells her. “We got out just fine, and did the job we were paid for besides. I think we oughta eat our dinner and get some rest.”

Jester sniffles, but steps away from him and begins to shed her outer layers of clothing, those most affected by the--the backsplash of battle. Once she’s down to a plain shift she opens the wine and takes a deep gulp.

“I will send a message to get some hot water brought up,” she announces. “And to have our clothes washed.”

Fjord starts stripping as well while Jester scribes her request on a small piece of parchment, rolls it up, and puts it inside a little leather case that she pulls out of the single shallow desk drawer. There’s a covered hole in the wall right by the desk; Jester lifts the flap and drops the case into whatever waits below.

“How’s that work, then?”

“The case has the room number and the message goes down the tube to the front desk and then they see whether it needs to go to the kitchens or to someone for laundry collection or, you know, if the madam needs to send someone up to the room for sex.”

Fjord can feel himself blushing. “I take it you didn’t ask for that last one.”

“No, if I have sex with anyone tonight it will be you, but it’s been a really long day.” Jester pushes her clothes into a pile with her foot, then picks up one of the flatbreads and takes a bite, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“That it has,” Fjord agrees, joining her with his own food. Jester snuggles against him and they eat in a silence made uncomfortable only by the aches and pains of the day’s battles.

As they’re finishing their meal, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Jester calls.

The golden-blonde woman who enters is human, but seems unfazed by the tiefling and the half-orc; working here she’s doubtless seen it all. She’s got two steaming buckets of water, plus a fluffy towel draped over either shoulder, and Jester bounds up from the bed to help her with the buckets. A second human woman follows her, carrying a tin hip bath that she promptly bangs against her shins upon seeing Fjord. It’s not horror that crosses her face, though--Fjord knows that expression well--and when her gaze lingers on his shirtless body it just reinforces what she’s thinking.

Jester mutters something in Infernal and the second woman goes pale, although it’s doubtful she knows the language. Fjord’s used to Jester as a pretty darn sweet woman most of the time, but a fierce fighter, and it doesn’t take knowing the meaning of her words to comprehend her tone.

“Ingrid, stop staring,” the first woman snaps. “I’m sorry ma’am, sir, she’s new.”

Ingrid looks about to protest but puts the tub down sulkily. “Do I take all this?” she asks, her Zemnian accent thicker than Caleb’s. She points at their stack of clothes.

“This too,” Jester says, and she stands up and peels off her shift, exposing her bare blue body with complete nonchalance. “Might as well get everything cleaned up, right,  _ darling _ ?”

Fjord catches on fast. “Uh, sure thing, sugar.” Taking off the last of his underthings in front of strangers is easier than it used to be. “Ain’t no point in taking a good bath and then gettin’ back into dirty clothes.”

Ingrid loads up her laundry sack and drags it out into the hallway. Meanwhile, the other woman has been coming and going, filling the tub until it steams with a faint smell of vanilla and roses. She leaves two buckets beside it: one hot, one cold.

“You’ll have to excuse Ingrid,” she says as Ingrid’s footsteps die away down the back stairs. “She’s not so new as all that, but she’s still in the habit of staring at things that are just none of her business.”

“That’s okay,” Jester says. “Here you go... this is for you, for bringing the bath, and this is for Ingrid, for doing the laundry. Tell her if she sees anything green and sticky on the clothes not to touch it with her bare hands, we fought some pretty disgusting stuff today and I don’t want her to get acid burns or poisoned or anything.” Her eyes are wide and blue and innocent as she passes the woman some coins.

“That’s very kind of you. If you need anything else, just message. You can ask for Honey.”

“Honey? That’s such a pretty name!” Jester enthuses.

“Thank you very much.” Honey gives a bob of her head as she replaces the message case in the desk drawer. “Enjoy your stay at the Pillow Trove.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, Jester turns to Fjord. “You should go in the bath first before the water gets cold. You know I run hot anyway.”

“I don’t want to get it all dirty before you can soak,” Fjord protests.

“Actually, I was  _ telling _ you, not  _ asking _ you, actually,” Jester says, and she stands there with her arms folded until Fjord acquiesces and sits down in the tub. Then she sits down on the floor beside it, handing Fjord what remains of his dinner. It’s downright delicious; Fjord makes a mental note to try it again sometime when he’s not nearly dead of various causes up to and including simple exhaustion.

“Do you really think we could have died down there?” he asks, waiting until Jester’s done eating so he doesn’t put her off her food. “I mean, we’re a pretty good team.”

“That doesn’t mean things can’t sneak up on us.” Jester licks her fingers until they’re clean just long enough to delve into her bag for a couple of pastries. She makes a show of inspecting them for mold, but Fjord knows her well enough to know that she keeps her eating pastries separate from the ones that she lets Nott take for spellcasting. “If Caleb had been at the back and got bitten, he’d be dead for sure.”

“Well... he’s not,” Fjord says, feeling foolish at his inability to say anything more encouraging. “None of us are.”

Jester takes this on board, judging by the expression on her face, but still seems troubled. Fjord makes an effort to distract her by stepping out of the tub and stretching, and a flicker of interest appears, but she’s too tired to do more than give him an overly familiar butt-squeeze as she passes him a towel. That’s all right; he feels just as worn out. She tests the water, tops it up with more hot, and settles down into the tub.

Fjord only realizes that he’s got nothing to sleep in when he’s finished drying off. “Uh, Jester? Neither of us have nightclothes.”

“Haven’t you ever slept naked before?” And, before he can answer that, “Come do my hair.”

As he kneels beside the tub he’s about to protest that the cold makes sleeping naked uncomfortable at best, but the Pillow Trove is a much better built establishment than the Leaky Tap, and though the fire in the corner is small it warms the room nicely. Not to mention that these rooms likely see a great deal of naked activity of all kinds, not limited to sleeping, and as such need to be kept at a pleasant temperature conducive to such activities.

The soap Jester gives him to rub in her hair smells sweet, and Fjord realizes he’s only ever smelled it in the faded form it takes after days on the road. Fresh, it’s bright like Jester herself, sweet, almost overpowering.

“What’s this made from?”

“The usual... tallow, ash--”

“What’s the  _ scent _ .”

“ Maracujá .” Jester clicks her tongue with frustration. “No... I can’t think of the name in Common. It’s a fruit, about so big--” she holds her hands up, indicating something the size of a small citrus fruit “--and purple, not Molly-purple but darker, and inside it’s all seeds and stuff, you know?”

Fjord  _ does _ know. It’s not often he’s seen any fruit from the south--that sort of fresh produce doesn’t get transported by ship, but rather by magic--but he knows what Jester means. “Passionfruit?”

Jester’s mouth curls into a smile that combines sleepy and sexy and is begging to be kissed. “Yeah. Passionfruit.”

Fjord puts the soap down carefully before he kisses her, because he doesn’t want that lovely bright scent to go to waste dissolving in the water. He ends up getting splashed when Jester gets a little handsy, but doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

The time to rinse her hair and let her dry off comes all too soon, and Fjord finds that settling into bed with her doesn’t automatically summon sex to his mind. Their regular thing is bedrolls and grassy patches and sneaking into each other’s small beds in shared rooms. Even so, having this comparatively luxurious bed all to themselves should theoretically make sex their highest priority, but lying down recalls all the day’s wounds and woes to Fjord’s body. From the way Jester murmurs discontentedly she feels the same way.

“Fjord?” she asks in a small voice.

“Mmmm?”

“Do you mind if we just snuggle tonight?”

“Jester, I don’t mind what I do, so long as it’s with you.”

It takes a few minutes of rolling around to establish that Jester spooning Fjord is best, because then he doesn’t have a faceful of horns and her tail prodding his tummy. She clings to him like a limpet and Fjord pushes his feet between her calves, unashamedly using her as a hot water bottle. She doesn’t mind, curling her tail around him as well, the tip resting on his thigh.

“Night, Jester.”

“Night, Fjord.”

Fjord’s expecting sleep to take a while coming, despite the turmoils of the day, but the softness of the blankets and pillows combined with the warmth of Jester’s body send him off as soon as he closes his eyes.

* * *

It’s still dark outside when Fjord awakens, the fire lighting his way when he gets up to peek out of the window. It’s thick, almost opaque glass, and he has to crack it open a little to get a better sense of the time. The streetlights are still lit, not even a hint of the sun in what he can see in the sky, and it’s cold enough out there that his body recoils instinctively and he slams the window shut rather louder than he ought to.

When he turns back to the bed Jester is awake, sitting up and peeping out of the covers. As his gaze lands on her she stretches melodramatically and the blankets slide down to her waist, exposing her upper body. The effect that the cold had had on Fjord’s body, specifically his manhood, is rapidly reversed at the sight. He’s quick to rejoin her in the bed.

“Fjord, you’re so cold...” Jester swats at him playfully, but when he moves to roll away from her suddenly she’s on top of him and kissing him and when he sticks his feet between her calves again (he was out of bed for all of  _ two minutes _ , how are his  _ feet _ so godsdamned  _ cold _ ?) she doesn’t protest a bit.

“Good thing you run hot,” Fjord says, cupping her backside. She flicks at his fingers with her tail, and he just squeezes harder. Jester wriggles, spreads her thighs, and just like that he’s pressed along her where she is hot in a very specific way. A quick shift of her hips and he slips into her, and the sensation makes him forget all about his cold feet.

Jester keeps it slow and Fjord strokes her back, hands running over her smooth blue skin from shoulders to backside and the base of her tail. It’s very good, as always, leading him to wonder just how much practice she’s gotten in her life. He’s not jealous to think it; rather, pleased that he’s reaping the rewards of her knowledge.

Slow or not, Jester comes quickly the first time, as she generally does. Fjord doesn’t know if that’s a Jester thing or a tiefling thing (maybe he needs to ask Molly), but it’s delicious to feel her go all shivery and hear her call his name with pleasure. More so because she doesn’t need to keep as quiet as she does when they’re with the others, and the raw lust in her tone has Fjord clinging to her ass because if she moves too much he’s done for.

She catches his wrists and pins them down playfully, and Fjord feels a long slow shudder run through his body. From the wide, delighted grin on her face, Jester feels it too.

“Oh, Fjord... we will have to play this way more often.” She gives his wrists a squeeze, leaning forward to put extra playful pressure on them, pinning him. Her breasts are tantalizingly close to Fjord’s face; lifting his head, he mouths at one indigo nipple. Jester makes a very pleased noise and leans down further, giving him better access.

“Any idea what time they’ll kick us out in the morning?” Fjord mumbles into her cleavage.

“No, why?”

“‘Cause I got a few ideas about how we can use this bed now we just happen to be awake.” Fjord licks in between her breasts and Jester shivers delightfully.

“Like what?” She loves his dirty talk, inept though it might be sometimes, and he’s been guiltily thinking about this on and off since the first time he saw her in a low-cut dress.

“Well, y’know... a sailor really ought to bring his lady home a pretty pearl necklace.” He licks the same place again. “If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Yes!” Jester rolls off him in an instant, retaining her grip on one wrist to meaningfully tug him toward her. She really is ready to try anything in the bedroom at least twice. Her cheeks, when flushed with exertion and pleasure, are the color of Molly’s skin.

Fjord straddles her stomach and leans down; his cock slides in his own saliva between Jester’s breasts and she smiles up at him before cupping them with her hands and pressing them closer together.

It’s warm and soft, almost too soft, but looking down to see his green length sliding against her blue skin, pre-come already dripping onto her, draws a low moan out of Fjord. The suggestion had almost been on a whim; he hadn’t been sure how well it would work, but it seems to be working just fine.

“All right down there?”

Jester grins. “You feel so hot and heavy, and you smell like me.” She dips her fingertip into the little rivulet of pre-come and licks it off her finger. “You still taste like you, though.”

Fjord groans, because even his most carefully thought out dirty talk can’t compare with what just spills out of Jester’s mouth without consideration. Jester winks and tucks her chin to her chest so that she can lap at the head of his cock.

“Oh gods, Jester...” Fjord pushes harder against her, grasping the bedhead with one hand and cupping her breast with the other, rolling his thumb over her nipple. He feels off balance but with her he knows he’d feel that way even lying flat on his back unmoving. “That’s so damn good...”

Jester wiggles her tail in to where she can play with his balls. Fjord takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to hold back just a moment longer. The tip of her tail presses in behind his sac, teasing at his ass, and ordinarily he wouldn’t be sure just how he felt about that but he trusts her and besides, she’s making him see stars.

“If we have enough time,  _ I _ could fuck  _ you _ ,” Jester says, tail-tip making insinuating circles, and Fjord gasps and comes, spilling out onto her lips and then her neck as she tilts her head back to bare her throat for him. He has the presence of mind to grab his cock and guide the thick white spurts so he doesn’t hit her in the eye, but that’s  _ all _ he has the mental capacity for.

“All right up there?” Jester asks, spreading her arms out to the sides and arching her back. Fjord sits back on his heels and looks down at her; she looks as cuddly as ever, her soft arms stretched invitingly wide, but sexy as well given her state of undress and the mischievous glimmer in her eyes, not to mention the way she’s drawing his attention right back to her come-spattered breasts and throat.

And she looks  _ dirty _ . Fjord is profoundly aware that there are far more, uh,  _ exotic _ practices out there than coming on someone’s chest, or being pinned down by said somebody, or even having said somebody offer to fuck him. But they’re still finding their way in this relationship and as such even Jester’s playful pinning of his wrists is excitingly, well, kinky.

Jester cocks her head, waiting for his response. Fjord gets off of her and presses his mouth over one of the coin-sized spots of his own spend on her breast, licking it off before sucking hard. Jester moans and Fjord slips a hand between her thighs, brushing through tight blue curls before finding her clit. He rubs teasingly with the pad of his thumb, two fingers just barely dipping inside, and Jester makes an indignant sound.

Fjord grins against her smooth soft skin and lifts his head, admiring the deep purple mark he’s left on her breast, before shifting up enough to get his mouth near her ear, fingers still only barely touching her. Her hips are twitching, not quite the hard bucks he’s familiar with from having teased her this way before, but he can feel the need building in her.

“Tell me more about how you’d fuck me, Jester,” he breathes against her cheek, feeling her body stiffen, lifting his thumb right off her clit for a moment. “Hands and knees? On m’ back so we can both watch your cock in me?”

“Oh-hhhh.” Jester lifts her hips. Fjord takes his hand entirely off her vulva and presses it to her mound, pushing her back down, ignoring her tail indignantly flicking his hand. “You want to?”

“Sure. Can’t hurt to try these things once.”

“Twice,” Jester corrects him, commencing a litany he’s heard before. “Once to try it, and--”

“Twice in case the first time was a bad example.” Fjord pushes his fingers properly inside her while she’s still giggling and Jester gasps. “One of those, uh, double-ended toys, do you think? Or a harness? Or are you just gonna use your tail?”

Jester closes her thighs around his hand and squeezes them together. “You sure seem to know your stuff, Fjord. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“In this case I’ve just seen pictures.” Fjord curls his fingers inside her and Jester gasps.

“Ah--Fjord--” She’s on the way to speechless, her cheeks gone plum-purple and the same flush extending down her throat and chest, under the drying white streaks. “Harnesses are p-pretty--”

“They sure are,” Fjord agrees, settling his thumb back on her clit. Jester squeaks. “I think you’d wear one real well... and fuck me  _ real good _ .”

This time Jester doesn’t squeak, she shrieks, and Fjord thinks if her thighs were just a bit leaner and more muscular she’d probably break his fingers with the force of her rough bucking. He strokes her through it, hesitates as she gasps with her eyes closed, and then when she says, “One more,  _ please _ Fjord,” acquiesces with pleasure.

* * *

As dawn begins to chase the darkness and cold from Zadash, the light finds Fjord with his face between Jester’s thighs, this time teasing her relentlessly no matter how much she swears at him and tugs at his hair and ears.

Only when she’s right on the edge does he give in, and she’s still shuddering through it when he moves up the bed and into her with an ease that impresses even himself. Jester promptly wraps her arms and legs around him, one heel pressing firmly against his ass. Her tail is doing something delightfully questionable between his thighs again.

He’d thought she was insatiable on the road. He is coming to realize he hadn’t seen anything yet.

“Damn, Jester, was your father an incubus or somethin’?” he pants.

“Maybe!”

“Not sure I can keep this up every day.”

“Oh, not  _ every _ day.” She gives him a smile that’s sleepy and sweet. “You can have rest days and I’ll fuck you instead.”

He seems to have mixed up ‘sleepy and sweet’ with ‘conniving’ there somehow.

“Tell me more,” he says, because damned if he’s not getting interested in the notion.

“Well...”

This facial expression he is one hundred percent certain of, and it’s her ‘pretending to think while she already has twenty-three ideas waiting to be spoken’ face. Usually they involve pastries.

He’s not willing to rule out pastries in this scenario either.

“I’ll have to start you off with my fingers, so you get an idea for how it feels, and then see what toys we can find.”

Fjord turns his head and kisses her fingers where her hand is resting on his shoulder. “You gonna look for something in blue, so it looks like it’s really yours?”

“I’d like to. But what if I can’t find something blue?”

“Purple’s like blue,” Fjord says before he can really think about it.

Jester narrows her eyes. “So is green, but you didn’t say green.” She lifts her head and nips at the side of his neck. “Do you like purple because then it doesn’t look like it could be yours instead, which I guess could be super weird, or because it looks like it could be _ someone else’s _ ?”

Fjord presses his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, where her skin still smells of his seed, and groans through his climax. He’s not even sure if she comes again or not because she’s giggling so hard.

“Wanton woman,” he grumbles.

“You bring out the best in me,” Jester says, grinning at him.


End file.
